


Caught You (Now I'm Gonna Scratch Up All Your Toys)

by hoob_gooblin



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Ableist Language, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Body Horror, Bullying, Catboys, Crude Humor, F/M, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Humor, Violence, aftgrbb2020, andrew on his meds so, chemistry class, i did a lot of comparative anatomy research, i'd like to say it isn't as bad as the tags imply but yea no it really is, maybe? - Freeform, sexual innuendo, the twins are very very inhuman looking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:07:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23534299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoob_gooblin/pseuds/hoob_gooblin
Summary: Reverse Big Bang 2020, written for the prompt:"The Monsters are just that, monsters, but they aren't all as bad as they seem. Aaron and Andrew are the most feared of all of them, but no one actually knows what they are,  until Neil stumbles upon them and can't quite believe his eyes."Otherwise known as, an unwittingly accepted catboy twinyards au treated far too seriously.
Relationships: Katelyn/Aaron Minyard, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 16
Kudos: 114
Collections: AFTG Reverse Big Bang 2020





	1. Dan

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from 'In Person' by The Pussycat Dolls
> 
> I'm gonna be completely honest, this prompt was NOT what I thought it was when I first saw it. i totally missed the ears
> 
> prompt from goopllmw on ao3 or goopllmw-art on tumblr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coach gives Dan a file for a particularly strange recruit, and Dan's not sure how she feels about bringing him on.

Motioning her into his office late one night after practice, Wymack handed Dan an overflowing file from his measly pile of potential recruits.

With it still half-clamped in his hand Wymack told her, solemn as a death march, "I need you to back me on this, Dan, the board's going to fight us like never before. This one's trouble." That threw her. She'd expected trouble; all the Foxes were trouble, that was what made them Foxes. If Wymack had to warn her about this one it meant whoever was in this file was Trouble Capital T, the real deal, the kind that may not be salvageable. "He's trouble, but he's good," Wymack pressed, "We need him." 

She opened the file.

She recognized the name, but she'd never seen the face attached, and it made her gulp. Andrew Minyard.

"This is that kid that turned down the Ravens..." she began. True, but didn't address the elephant in the room. Sure, he'd made quite the impact in the exy world when he basically told Riko Moriyama and Kevin Day to go fuck themselves - a bold insolence that Dan could respect - but the face looking up at her from the file wasn't... human.

Slitted pupils, more of a short muzzle than a nose, triangular ears atop his head; it was more cat than person, right down to the faint outline of fangs against the flat seam of his mouth. (She wondered what other mutations were there below the headshot, hiding behind that face, blank as death). He was a Changeling the likes of which hadn't been seen in nearly a century.

The last vestiges of magic in the world hung around in the tiniest ways, almost unnoticeable, in fingers that were a little too long or hair that waved without any wind blowing. "Changelings" were someone who claimed their great-great grandmother was a selkie and that was why they could hold their breath a little longer, or someone who was 1/32 djinn when they won at roulette. They were people like Kevin Day with his black-on-green eyes. They weren't... this, a hairsbreath away from the monsters that had stalked the dark ages.

She looked up to Coach for an explanation, but he didn't offer one. Instead, he looked her in the eye with a face deathly serious and rumbled, "Read the file. We'll talk tomorrow." Then he walked away.

That night after Allison, Renee, and Matt were asleep, at her desk, Dan pulled out Minyard's file from her bag. She hadn't wanted to bring it up with her roommates, something about the gravity of the way Coach talked made her want to keep this from getting out and making the rounds, that they were bringing a monster to Palmetto.

Nothing in the file bolstered her confidence.

Andrew Joseph Minyard, 17 years old, attended Dreher High School in Columbia, had unbeatable goalie stats, and was also recently acquitted of four attempted murder charges, pled down to aggravated assault.

His file included a court report with the necessary details. Apparently Minyard worked under the table as a busboy at a downtown nightclub. His suspiciously young legal guardian, a cousin, worked there as well as a bartender. One night, the cousin stepped out back for his break and a hookup, which was very deliberately marked as being of the homosexual variety. Four young men (the supposed victims of the trial) saw them in the alley and decided to beat the shit out of them. The hookup got away, the cousin got two weeks in ICU. Minyard ended up in the alley looking for his cousin, where he went ballistic on the four guys, literally ripped them limb from limb with his bare hands. Doctors testified that the injuries were more brutal than anything a human being should have been capable of, and that they were inflicted deliberately with the intent to cause as much pain as possible. The fact they all survived was a miracle.

It wasn't Minyard's first offence, either. Apparently he had a record spanning back as far as you could charge a minor, plenty of it violent, admissable in court because while they were charging him as an adult, he was technically still underage and his juvenile record hadn't been sealed yet. The kid had a long history of violent, destructive outbursts and anti-social behavior. The court shrink that did his psych eval called him, "destructive and joyless, uncaring for the consequences of his actions and unable to empathize with others' pain." In short, a psychopath.

For some reason, the prosecution offered a very, _very_ generous deal: No time served, community service, and three years on an experimental drug meant to curb Minyard's psychotic impulses. After all, his twisted little heart had been in the right place.

By the time she opened his school records, Dan already had a foul taste in her mouth. Minyard was apparently as much of a nightmare in the classroom as in the goal and on the streets. He took low-level classes and hardly pulled through, absences riddled his attendance, and he had detention nearly every other day. He'd been nearly suspended multiple times for fighting on school grounds, staying by the skin of his teeth only because his exy coach intervened. So far though through his senior year, his guidance counselor swore he'd improved exponentially under the drugs and that "By the end of his sentence, he should almost be a real person!"

He was Fox material all right. The world had turned its back on this kid. But Dan still wasn't convinced they should bring him on. Trouble was one thing - they could weather trouble, they already had - but this kid.. this kid could end up downright dangerous, to their already piss-poor reputations, to their place at the school, hell, maybe even to their lives. She might sleep uneasily having a psychotic changeling with the strength of three men in the other room. He was violent, unpredictable, powerful. Her teammates had derided her, spit on her, stolen from her, even hit her, but Dan had never once believed any of her teammates would kill her. This kid though? She wasn't so sure.

Still, she watched his tape.

Seeing Minyard play made her reconsider. He moved so fast in goal she couldn't follow him. He could be from one end to the other in the blink of an eye, twisting and contorting to catch shots that professionals would miss, throwing them down the court like bullets. The rest of his team was average at best, for Dreher to get as far as they had the past two years? Minyard could carry a team, could hold down an entire line. The Foxes could use that - fuck they _needed_ that. They were one more bad season away from being disbanded. Even if Minyard was the vilest, most repugnant creature to ever slither out of hell, Dan would put an extra lock on her door and just brush it off, same as every other threat, so long as he played like THAT.

\---

A month later, watching from the stands at the Dreher High School exy court as the Blue Devils crumbled under the opposing team's onslaught, she clung to that resolve as Minyard single-handedly held back the offensive. He was just as good in person as on tape, too fast to follow, too strong to stop. Maybe he needed a lesson in teamwork, but without him, the Devils had no chance.

Glancing at Wymack to her side, Dan tried to puzzle through his thoughts. His face gave nothing away, perfectly still with his mouth pursed into a thin line, his elbows on his knees propping up his head. He looked a million miles away from the game, but his eyes never left the goalkeeper, laser-focused. 

They'd fought tooth-and-nail just to get to the stadium, first with the team and then with the board of directors for approval to even approach Minyard with their offer. Through it all, Coach had never once faltered in his resolution that they needed to sign him, but never explained it either, not even when Dan, faith shaken, had appealed to him for reassurance that they were doing the right thing. Coach saw something in that boy, she knew it, something she couldn't see, but she had no idea what it was.

When the final buzzer tolled in the Devil's favor by two, the crowd erupted. Dreher only had one more game in their fall season, and this win gave them absolute certainty to get into their Spring Championships. (If only the Foxes could be so lucky). 

After waiting an extra ten minutes for the end of game formalities to wrap and the coaches to debrief, Dan and Wymack pushed their way through the still-crowded bleachers to the scant outter ring of the court. Most of the home players were still celebrating by their home bench. Wymack headed towards the high school coach, but not before giving Dan a nod towards the students.

She'd done recruitment before. Find the kid if you could, but listen to the teammates. Teenagers preferred the players to the coaches.

Spotting the hi-vis captain's band against a blue and white uniform, she pulled up next to a tangle of Devils. Realizing they had a stranger in their midst, they broke apart to look at her, smiles still painting their faces. The captain, a generic boy with his teeth gard smearing spit on his jersey where it hung off its line, made to open his mouth but she beat him to it.

"I'm Dan Wilds, from Palmetto State University," she said, sticking her hand out for a brusque shake, all business. She never trusted anyone who seemed too popular.

Before she could get any further, a small roar of "Foxes!" went up in the crowd, with others clamoring about games they'd attended or matches they'd seen on tv. At least they weren't derisive, like some schools were. But then again, they were local, and hometown pride could forgive almost any sin.

She had to raise her voice to be heard over the rush, "I'm looking for Minyard."

It cut the cheer immediately, but not the noise. Instead, the Devils started laughing.

Finally, the captain said, "Which one?" like it was goddamn hilarious, and they all laughed harder.

Dan had been laughed at plenty in her life, but she'd never gotten a taste for it. Defensive, she snapped, "And what's that supposed to mean?"

It took nearly a minute and the stormcloud look on her face for anyone to answer her. Eventually, number 17 looked her up and down and said, "Oh, you really don't know."

Number 34 picked up after her, "There's two of them: the Devil and his Doppelganger. I'll bet you want the Devil, no one ever wants the spare."

"Minyard has a brother?" Dan translated. She'd missed him if he was mentioned in Andrew's file.

"More like a reflection," number 12 clarified, "Andrew's the psycho savant, Aaron just tags along."

Identical twins, interesting. Both clearly disliked by their teammates.

"And where can I find them?" Dan asked.

"Probably being crazy alone over by far-court," number 53 rolled his eyes, "They don't exactly play nice with others."

As she turned away, another kid shouted "Count your fingers, they bite!" and the whole crowd dissolved into laughter again.

Having heard plenty, Dan turned her back on the Devils and went looking for her wayward recruit. She saw two figures over by far-court, just like 53 said, and headed over. Getting closer, though, she could tell they weren't the one she was after. The one with his back turned to her wearing exy padding was dressed as a backliner, not a goalie. Aaron, then. The twin. She couldn't remember anything about his playing from the game, none of the backliners had particularly stood out. Besides, she'd had her eye on the goal. The other boy next to him must be the cousin from the court report then, Nicholas Hemmick. 

When she got close enough, they broke off their conversation and swiveled around to stare at her. They couldn't have looked more different if they tried. Hemmick looked human. Aaron really was a carbon copy of his brother, muzzle-like nose and slitted yellow eyes. He had a bandana on his head but she bet there were pointed ears under it, too. Besides that, Minyard 2 was short like a child, with bleach blonde hair and pale olive skin tinted grey, like he was covered in a fine layer of dust. His cousin next to him, however, was tall and dark all over, from his hair to his eyes to his skin. Even the wary looks they gave her were different.

Before she could introduce herself, Aaron snarled at her, "What do you want?"

That much open hostility before she even introduced herself brought Dan up short, but she pressed on, "I'm Dan Wilds, captain of the Palmetto State F-"

"Not fucking interested," Aaron cut her off, "Give up." Then he turned and stormed away, leaving Dan shocked in his wake.

A nervous laugh broke her out of it, and she turned to look at the cousin standing awkwardly by himself. "Don't mind him," he tittered, waving his hand after his cousins retreating form, "He's always got his jockstrap twisted up about something or other, don't take it personally." He stuck out his hand with a grin, "Nicky Hemmick. Now what brings you over to lil ole us?"

"Aaron's brother, actually," Dan said, taking his hand. At least one was friendly.

"Oh we know," Nicky chuckled, snapping his hands throught the air, "Everyone always is. Andrew's our budding little superstar; I'm so proud." He pretended to wipe a tear from his eye.

Then without changing demeanor, he continued, "He's right, though, you're wasting your time. If the Ravens weren't good enough for him, and the seven other schools that turned up chasing him after he turned the Ravens down weren't good enough for him, then your little honky-tonk loser squad isn't going to be good enough for him, either. No offence," he added casually.

Dan bristled, jumping to defend her team. "What's his problem, then?" she snapped, "We're just about the last one's recruiting, after us, he's shit out of luck for a contract, screw how good he is. Who's he waiting on, Harvard? I've seen his grades." She scoffed.

But Hemmick his barked a laugh. "Ooh, _feisty_ ," he snapped his fingers. "Nah, Andrew just doesn't care. He'll be lucky if he manages to drag himself through community college"

"Doesn't care?" Dan repeated.

"Nope," Hemmick popped the 'P', "Like rain to a duck, couldn't care less."

"But he could get a free ride," Dan stuttuered

Hemmick rolled his eyes, "You've seen his grades, he parrotted, "You think he cares about _school_?"

"But he's _good_ ," she nearly yelled, horrified. 

Hemmick sideyed her like she was thick. "He doesn't even _like_ exy."

The blood rushed in Dan's ears, she had to grind her teeth to hold herself back. She was furious. She would kill for talent like this kid had. She had torn herself to pieces to get into college, and he _didn't even care._

"Whoa, there, Cap," Hemmick chuckled awkwardly, "Don't get all riled up. Andrew's a jackass, leave it at that. Nothing you can do about it. Now you're better off just going home."

She couldn't. She needed to talk to this kid. Now, more than ever, she needed to give this freakshow a wake-up call. 

The sound of a locker room door slamming shut echoed around the gym, and as if in slow motion, Andrew Minyard finally appeared. Seeing him in person was somehow much more and much less than the image she'd built up in her mind, even after meeting Aaron. He was fucking short, probably barely reached her chin, but he was built wide and solid as a brick wall, and moved with an airy indifference that chilled the space around him. And on his freakish face was the most ghastly smile Dan had ever seen. He looked like someone had slit him cheek to cheek with a shard of broken glass, crooked and violent and wicked. Fangs, an inch long, protruded from his upper and lower jaws. Nothing in his file had prepared her for this face-to-face.

A warm, heavy hand rested on her shoulder for a second, and Dan turned to see Wymack at her back. Immediately, she felt her cool rush back. She felt in control again. This was an arrogant teenager. They had all the power.

Coach took a step forward directly in front of Minyard's path and crossed his arms over his chest. He'd never been much of a guy for handshakes. "Andrew Minyard, I presume," he grunted.

Minyard didn't even seem to hear him. He kept walking until his twitchy little nose was almost in coach's sternum, then lazily tilted his head all the way back to grin at the hulking man above him. "Do you presume correctly, I wonder," he replied, "One can never be too sure with these things. It would be oh so terrible if you caught the wrong one." He had a voice thick like a hickory smoke, but he spoke with clipped, over-anunciated words and a childish, sing-song rhythm. Even staring directly up at Wymack, his blown out eyes never seemed to focus.

Coach pressed on, "My name is David Wymack, I'm from Palmet-"

 _"Boooooring,"_ Minyard drawled, flopping his head back, "I've heard this tune before, learn another."

Too fast to follow, he slipped around Coach and kept walking. "Come now, Nicky. I'll collect my payment from dear John and we'll be on our merry way."

In a flash, all Dan's rage came back to her. She'd been insulted, her team had been insulted, but insulting her coach was the last straw.

She cut Minyard off and got in his face. "Stop," she demanded, "We're trying to do something good for you for once in your miserable life. Listen-."

He didn't falter a moment as he shoved past her too, "To the worst team in the league? I don't believe I shall." Dan balked, the deft insult taking the wind out of her. He waved a limp wrist in the air over his retreating shoulder, "You have nothing to offer me I haven't already turned down. Too-da-loo."

Dan cursed and jogged after him. "Hear us out," she pleaded.

"No."

"Why not? What do you have to lose?"

"My time." He still wouldn't look at her, striding through the nearly emptied gym. "I'm terribly busy, you know. Puppies to kick, babies to make cry."

"We can offer you a full ride, five years," goddamnit she was begging.

"Not interested."

"What else do you even have! You've rejected every school that approached you, what else are you going to do with your life?" she was desperate. They needed him. She hated it but they needed him.

"Whatever I so desire," he drawled, "Drink myself to death, go back to prison." He flicked her a disdainful eye. "Oh perhaps I'll take a roadtrip. Kill a man, rob a store, drive off a cliff holding hands with my lover." At that he cackled a heinous laugh that rattled down Dan's spine. "Don't you see? I have so many WONDERFUL things ahead of me."

"What'll it take?" she cried, "What do you _want_?"

Abruptly, Minyard stopped dead in his tracks, so suddenly that Dan almost stumbled keeping pace. For the first time he looked at her, _really_ looked, his eyes piercing under the drugged haze. She felt exposed under that gaze, like he could see right through her, to the blood rushing in her ears, the breath caught in her throat.

"Curious," he crooned, half under his breath, "You're so insistent. I wonder why that is." His eyes wouldn't let her go. There was something dangerous there, that warned her not to move. "There are hundreds of sobstories out there, just like mine, you could pluck up any one of them to parade around at your pity party. Get two. Get five. What does it matter, you have the money"

Dan shuddered under the the scrutiny.

"Unless you don't." His pupils contracted to needle thin slits in those toxic yellow eyes. "Oh I see," a revelation, "This is your final straw." He chuckled, "You're desperate. The school is threatening to shut you down unless you can finally deliver on their investment." He saw it all, down to the bone.

"And you came to me," he was so close she could smell the cigarrettes on his breath, "I'm flattered, really." He pushed fully into Dan's space, forcing her backwards, "But tell me, am I your saving grace or your scapegoat?" He pushed her back again, "Are you looking to _use_ me to drag your pathetic asses out of the gutter," back again, "Or are you looking to pin the blame on me when that clown car you call a team finally crashes and burns?" Her back hit the plexyglass wall of the court. "Say I cut the brakes so you can save face?" She was trapped. The gym was empty. She could see his fangs flashing in her peripheral but she couldn't look away from his eyes. "You've already had two years," he spat, "Maybe it's time you accepted that it's your own wretched fault that you've failed so utterly to _prove_ yourself and scurry back into whatever hole you crawled out of."

Terrified, furious, back against the wall, Dan struck at him in desperation. She just wanted him _away_. She just wanted him to _shut up_.

Before her fist could connect, Minyard knocked it aside with one hand and slammed her head into the wall with the other wrapped around her neck. His grip felt like iron as she clawed at her throat in panic, unable to tear him off.

"Tsk, tsk, Captain," he grinned, and with one arm slid her up the wall until her toes squeaked against the floor looking for traction, "Attacking an innocent recruit? How unprofessional." At the ends of his fingers she felt thick, hooked claws flexing against her skin, threatening to rip her open. Oh god was she going to die here? Was he going to kill her? "Why I never," and abruptly he dropped her completely. She fell to the floor, gasping like it was her first breath, cradling her throat. 

Minyard stood over her, smiling. He brought one hand up to his cheek and rubbed it along the gruesome grin, trailing those long claws along his lip. Dan shivvered.

"Well this has been a horrendous first meeting," he smirked, "I do hope we never see each other again."

Unfortunately - when a week later Wymack showed her not one, but three files laid out on his desk and declared "they signed" - they would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dreher High School is a 100% real high school in columbia, south carolina that i googled because i was lazy and i hope i have not portrayed them in too negative a light. my apologies
> 
> the twins' claws are based partially off of a weapon called a bagh nakh, partially off acrylic stiletto nails, and partially off the anatomy of an actual cat's claws


	2. Katelyn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katelyn can't stop staring at the boy who sits alone in the back of her chemistry class.

Katelyn snapped out of her daze when Penny slapped her leg under the table, startling half a foot out of her seat. 

"You're staring again," Penny scolded her.

"Sorry," she mumbled, fixing her gaze back on the Professor lecturing at the board and her notebook in front of her.

"Jesus, Katie, what's your damage?" Penny continued, "Why are you so obsessed with him?"

She hunched further over her notes. "Katelyn," she muttered under her breath, not willing to correct them again but needing to say it, "Not Katie."

Her tablemate Amy popped her gum. "What'd you say, Kate?" she asked. "Can't hear you."

"I just said I'm not obsessed with him," she lied while quickly filling in the molecular diagram she'd fallen behind on while she was spaced out, hoping that would be the end of it.

It wasn't.

All the girls rolled their eyes at her instead. "Yeah, right," Rochele, the final girl at their lab table, a soccer player to their two cheerleaders and a dance major, sighed, "You spend half this class staring at him and the other half making up the notes you missed _while you were staring at him_." Katelyn ground her teeth but her notes in this class were rushed and sloppy and nowhere near her standards for her other classes.

"Why are you even looking?" Penny sneered, tossing a surruptitious look over her shoulder at the back corner like he could hear them and leaning in, "You into that furry shit?"

Rochele snorted so hard she nearly blew her paper away and Amy nearly choked on her gum. They had to bite their fists to muffle their laughter but Katelyn burned bright red, horrified and enraged.

"What! Gross, no!" she hissed at them, swivelling her head around to make sure no one was paying them any attention. The class mostly kept to their own lab tables, and the Prof didn't mind a little chatting as long as they still payed attention. No one was looking, she was in the clear. She turned back to her own table, where the three other girls were still losing their minds trying not to laugh, "It's not even funny! What's wrong with you?"

"Oh I don't know," Rochele gasped around her hand clutched to her mouth, "Don't knock it till you try it. He hooked up with this girl on the team at a party a few weeks back..." She dissolved back into shoulder-shaking giggles, hunched over the table-top, "She said he really knows his way around a pussy!"

Amy barked a laugh so loud the entire room went dead quiet and turned to stare at her. She clapped her hands over her mouth and managed to turn it into a cough that devolved into a coughing fit. That just prompted Rochele to wheeze louder, face down on her book.

"Is there something you'd like to share with the class, girls?" The professor broke in, voice icy. He was generally lackadasical about rules and classroom etiquette, but didn't take kindly to students taking advantage of that. The whole room leaned in on them, out for blood for disturbing the peace.

Amy and Rochele clammed up, choking back their laughter into convulsions, but going quiet. Katelyn tried to sink down through her stool.

"No, sir. Sorry, sir. Please continue," Penny replied for all of them, the most put-together of the group, except for a snicker and a mean gleam in her eye. 

Penny was a cheer squad junior, fulfilling her lab science requirements late in her degree. She was most of the things Katelyn didn't like about cheerleading: catty, vain, gossipy, and fake, but she was well-connected, and Katelyn needed her not just to fit in on the team, but to survive campus life as well.

In a school as huge as Palmetto State, you needed friends, especially when you were as in the limelight as much as the Vixens. Hell, the exy team was despized for a million different reasons, not least because they did absolutely nothing to endear themselves to anyone.

Katelyn wanted more than to just get a degree, she wanted to have a good time while doing it.

"Alright," the professor assented after a long pause, eyes narrowed, "But this is your last warning. Pay attention. Maybe you'll find something to put under your hair besides volumizers." Then he turned back around to the diagram on the board.

A collective croon swept through the class as the tension dispelled. In the corner of her eye, Katelyn watched Penny's fist clench around her pencil, and felt her eyes rake over her for a second.

For the next fifteen minutes, everything at their table copied the lecture notes in silence, set against the background murmer and shuffle of the room. Katelyn made a special effort to keep her head down and listen, taking detailed notes, but eventually her focus began to wander again.

A light but repepitive thumping from the back corner finally made her glance over her shoulder. 

She sighed. They were teasing him again. 

Pat and Brandon, a pair of football sophomores that Penny was friends with but had privately told Katelyn to avoid, were kicking their legs under the table behind them and bumping the stool on the other side, probably trying to make the kid perched on top of it unbalance and fall over. 

They were such douchebags and no one ever called them out on it. Every class they picked on him and picked on him and no one did anything. They kept it small enough to deny it, sure, but she couldn't be the only one who noticed because everyone else laughed when he would snap or fall. 

Pat and Brandon never got in trouble for any of it.

Only Aaron did.

Aaron Minyard, already an outcast for being on the hated exy team, was virtually shunned for being the other half of the dreaded set of changeling twins that had stalked onto campus that year. Incredible that in a school of thirty thousand everyone managed to have the same name on their lips. 

To be fair, the Minyard twins had made their presence more than known from long before they arrived on campus. When word got out that Andrew Minyard, the only recruit to ever reject Edgar Allen University, had signed with dead-last Palmetto State, the sports world had gone crazy, running stories about how dangerous he was, how crazy, what a cheap trick it was to bring him on. Ravens fans especially had said some vile things not just about Andrew or the exy team (which students had learned to just take on the chin) but about all of Palmetto. It got so bad that fights broke out on campus, and more than one building had been vandalized.

The man of the hour, Andrew Minyard only stoked the flames. After not even a full semester of school he'd acquired quite the reputation, Katelyn had heard through the grapevine: getting in fights, destroying people's property, being a general dick. 

People whispered about there being more. That he stalked people, broke into their rooms and stole from them, that he was a dealer, that he'd killed people, but no one ever brought allegations.

And all for what? For the exy team's delusional coach to fight so hard for him, he must have thought that Andrew would singlehandedly net the school a championship. Instead they were middle-of-the-pack in the region, had $5,000 in property damage to fix, and had a mentally unstable teenager basically hopped up on a glorified meth prescription stalking the grounds.

Needless to say, Katelyn was not a fan.

Aaron, though?

She didn't know what to think of Aaron. Probably because Aaron let very little of himself slip enough for her to form an opinion.

He stuck close to his brother, sure, but Aaron had never seemed like Andrew, even from a distance. Especially in class, where he stayed so focused on whatever work was in front of him; or when he walked along the green and groups of bigger athletes would knock him around as they passed and he said nothing; or when he studied in the library and all the tables within throwing reach of him would be abandoned. Basically, whenever he was alone. He seemed quiet, nervous. He kept his head down and his arms held close to his sides, always with a hat covering his head and a big jacket, like he wanted to disappear. 

He seemed... small, in a way that had nothing to do with his height.

Aaron Minyard fascinated her. 

She wasn't obsessed with him, that wasn't it. She was just intrigued by the way he shouldered hits like he was taking punishment, ducked his head when people teased him for things he'd been born into. 

Katelyn needed to be liked. She'd spent so much of her life trying to fit in, she just couldn't look away from this boy who never could.

Besides that, though, she just liked looking at him. 

As a child Katelyn had loved magic and monsters, pouring over the books and studies and records, all the old accounts of the fantastical beings that had once lived among them, until one day they just disappeared, a mass exctinction that happened over night. 

They hardly left a trace. No bodies, no last words, just gone. All they left behind were their changeling offspring, half-humans and crossbreeds that still contained a glimmer of the magic. 

She'd tracked the modern cases of magical creatures for years: the horses that still contained a touch of unicorn blood, the lions that could speak a few croaked sentences. She'd kept dozens of old photographs and famous works of art taped to her walls, of the meta-humans, the changelings. A local lord descended from Naga covered head to toe in scales; a woman by the Meditterannean with her harpy wings outstretched; the daughter of a krasue who could still remove her entire head. 

All dressed up in their nicest clothes. Playing human, but something more than that, really. Proud, regal, dignified. 

Beatiful.

Looking at Aaron reminded her of that, of all the magic that used to be in the world - (still was, hidden away, she always reminded herself) - of being a child full of wonder. All the hate and the fear and the misinformation surrounding changelings in America broke her heart, especially now that they were so few and far between, rooted out and hunted down, chased into insular communities on the fringes of society. 

Someone who looked like Aaron, unmistakeably more than human, never stood a chance.

So if sometimes her gaze wondered over in his direction and stayed there for a bit, what did it matter? Why should anyone care? They were hypocrites, anyway. Everyone else watched him too, Katelyn just stood out because she didn't do it like she was waiting for a bomb to go off.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed her ponytail and pulled, hard, yanking her head back. "OW!" she yelled, spinning around in her chair, "What the hell!" The hand let go but she saw Penny's arm outstretched, this time with a nasty look in her eye.

They glared at each other for a second, the rest of the room stopped at the commotion.

"Girls!" the professor exclaimed, "Twice in one day? Keep your catfights out of my classroom." The class snickered as one.

Katelyn and Penny didn't break eye contact, but said together, "Won't happen again, professor."

"See that it doesn't," he grumbled, "Or I will have you removed."

Katelyn waited twenty seconds for everthing to settle, still staring Penny down, before she breathed through her teeth, "What the hell was that for!"

Penny spat back, "I'm getting fucking sick of all your staring, cut it out."

"Just leave me alone, how about!"

Penny's hand flexed like she was holding back from smacking her. Instead she grabbed Katelyn's wrist in an iron-hard grip. She leaned in until they were nose to nose and hissed, "The whole exy team is strictly DNI, but that guy and his psychobitch brother especially. Get it through your thick fucking skull!"

She was tired of all this image policing bullshit, "What's it even matter to you!"

"What you do reflects back on the whole team," Penny snarled, "On _me_. We don't assocaite with freaks like that." Her nails cut into Katelyn's skin.

"Well maybe I _do_ ," Katelyn whispered, burning. She twisted her wrist out of Penny's grasp with a jerk, rubbing her hand over the deep indentations left behind, close to tearing the skin. 

"Well then maybe you should be over there!" They faced each other down, panting.

"Well then maybe I will!" Katelyn snapped to the front, breaking away from Penny.

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

Amy and Rochele were staring at them with huge eyes and tight mouths, but no one else seemed to have noticed the tensions sparking. They finished out the last fifteen minutes of class in silence, discord boiling between them.

  
\---

  
The next Tuesday when Katelyn slipped into class, she consciously avoided looking at her usual lab table. Amy, Rochele, and Penny were already in place, she didn't have to look at them. She strode passed with her back straight and head held high, jaw clenched tight and felt the tensions from Thursday still sparking. 

Penny and she had ignored each other in practices since then. Luckily they didn't rely on each other at any point for stunts. Penny was almost definitely spreading shit about her, but none of it had come up so far and they hadn't come to blows yet. Katelyn didn't even know what what happen if Penny swung on her; she'd never been in a fight in her life.

They didn't actually have assigned seats or lab partners, but everyone always fell into the same places anyway. Breaking out of her spot and walking across the room made her stand out. She knew there would be at least six pairs of eyes on her as she headed towards the back corner, but there might be more. 

People loved drama; shakeups in the classroom were as good as MTV. 

She felt their eyes on her, tracking. It made her conscious of everything, her skirt, her hair, her shoes. She could only guess what conclusions they were drawing. It made her stomach roll.

But Katelyn was a cheerleader. If she could do a double handspring tuck on a wooden floor in front of 50,000 people for the worst exy team in the country and land it with a smile, she could switch seats in Chem Lab.

Aaron was already seated in his usual place by the wall. He'd been watching her from the start, his gaze burning hotter than anyone else's. When she stopped in front of his empty table he kept staring, but wouldn't meet her eyes, instead staying hunched over his things like he thought Katelyn might try to take them. He didn't say anything.

Katelyn bobbed a little on the balls of her feet to dispel her nervous energy, tapping her fingertips against her thighs. She tried smiling but the silence kept stretching on, and it flickered out fast, like a dying bulb.

Eventually, she coughed a little to break the quiet. "Hi," she tried. No response. 

She felt thirty sets of eyes on her back, Penny's too-white smile gnawing on the back of her neck.

"I'm Katelyn." Nothing. Aaron just curled himself down more, like he was waiting for an attack.

"Can I sit?" she gestured at the stool next to him. Finally, he made a noise, somewhere between a hum and scoff, and turned away to face the front of the room. Taking it as assent, Katelyn dropped her bag and sat down, fishing out her pens and notebook.

The last few stragglers rushed in a step before the professor. For the final five minutes before class began, Aaron and Katelyn sat in complete silence side by side, together in the back of the room.

People kept shooting them looks. Quick over the shoulder glances just to make sure that, yes, Cheerleader Katelyn was sitting in the back next to Minyard; others longer, more accusatory, pressing Katelyn for an explanation, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Penny's eyes across the room burned into the side of Katelyn's face, but she wouldn't raise her head to look.

With a cough, the professor began the lecture, and the class fell silent and faced forwards, forgetting about the strange duo in the back, at least temporarily.

Not wanting to push anything farther than she already had, Katelyn sat straight-backed on her stool and took her notes more diligantly than she ever had in her life. Never before had her college rule, the tabletop, and the blackboard been so interesting. If she still felt eyes flitting over her occasionally as the start-of-class spell began to wear off and a light layer of chatter settled over the room, Katelyn put them out of mind.

She could feel Aaron's presence at her elbow like a dumbell weighing her down on one side, but she couldn't even turn her head, her body was so wired, let alone look at him. He was like a gorgon, but she'd been turned to stone before she looked. Or maybe he was like the sun, instead; she could look at him through a proxy but not directly. 

Nevertheless, whatever he was, for an hour and a half she was the most dedicated chemistry student to ever grace the hallowed halls of Palmetto State, even with one half of her body on fire and the other half pricked by frozen needles. 

When the professor dismissed them, the immediate squeak of the stool next to her broke Katelyn out of her trance. Aaron's was vacating the premises as ASAP as possible, hunched over, his bag tucked under his arm, hat brim pulled down low, skulking.

As he passed behind her and pointed himself towards the door, she abruptly snapped an arm out, stopping him in place.

"I, um..." After an extended pause where she realized she had stopped him without any plan for what to say or do, she settled for, "I like your hat." Stupid. It was just a normal baseball cap. Dark green with a yellow 'A' on it, half-hidden under a black hoodie.

His eyes flashed at her from beneath the rim, the two of them frozen together, eyes locked. His were yellow, white-less, with slitted pupils. Cat's eyes through and through.

Finally, though, he responded, acknowledging her outright for the first time, "Whatever." 

Then he ducked his head even further down and made his escape, leaving Katelyn sitting at the table thinking about how _pleasant_ the quality of his voice had been.

  
\---

  
On Thursday, Katelyn sat next to Aaron in silence again, only slightly less strained and with only a few less eyes on them.

Aaron, again, ignored her, and stayed curled over his notes, scratcing away with a vengeance, but his shoulders were no longer brushing his temples from how much tension was running through him. Instead, he propper one arm between them on the table top and turned his back on her with a huff when he realized she was sitting next to him again. 

Katelyn took it as a good sign.

Twenty minutes into class, though, her attention on the lesson began to wander left of her paper. She turned slightly, so that out of the corner of her eye she could watch the boy next to her. He was wearing the same hat as before, this time with an oversized bomber jacket in the same shade of dark green over the black hoodie. The jacket swallowed him, the sleeves covering his hands as he wrote, hiding the rest of him like a tent.

Certainly, he sheltered in it.

This close, she could tell that he wasn't so much small as.. compact. Short, maybe, but from the quick glances she got of his legs and chest, he was not _small_. He'd simply drawn himself into a tiny ball curtained by his coat. 

Instead of sitting on the stool, he crouched on top of it in an impossibly deep squat, boots flat, knees tucked up against his ribs. The anatomy of it was slightly wrong, bent and stacked in a way that was just slightly off. 

She tried to puzzle it out. For one, it should have been unbalanced, with his legs positioned so close and his whole weight resting where it did, but Aaron never wavered or showed any signs of discomfort. He had sat the entire class on Tuesday in that position, and every other class before it, for hours, never moving.

Looking closer, she sought out the oddities of his form, where he was built cat-like instead of ape-like. His torso was maybe longer, she thought, his knees perhaps located slightly higher on his legs. It would change his center of gravity. Make him more compact, more balanced. 

Fascinating.

Trailing her gaze upwards over his hunched shoulders and thick neck, she rested it on his shadowed cheek, propped on his arm. He had a wide, blunt jaw and fierce features, sharp cheekbones and corded tendons. Powerful. It culminated in a muzzle-like face, flat and protruding, as though the empty space that defined the nose and lips had been filled in, leaving nostrils and a thin line of a mouth. If she looked close enough, she could make out the impression of the long fangs she knew he had from seeing his brother's wild, manic smile. His yellow eyes were large, deepset under a heavy brow. 

He was... _breathtaking._

She wondered what he could _do_ , where else he was magic. He _glowed_ with it.

At that moment, a spitball flew through the air and struck Aaron in the cheek, making him start so badly he nearly toppled over backwards.

It spooked Katelyn too, snapping her out of the daze she'd been in God-knew-how-long. She nearly jumped out of her skin.

Obnoxious, smothered laughter came from the table in front of them. Pat and Brandon, wonderful. They had skipped class on Tuesday, but were back today, and had given Katelyn and Aaron a _long_ look when they came in. It seemed they were finally making their move.

Aaron swiped the paper off his cheek in disgust, mouth curling momentarily into a snarl before he hunkered back down, his previous tension running back through his body. He caught Katelyn's eye, still gawking at him and snapped, "What the fuck are _you_ looking at?" with vehemence.

"Hey, that's not a nice thing to say to a lady!"

They both snapped forwards at that, to see Pat and Brandon's shit-eating grins as they slid their stools from the back of the table ahead of them to the front of theirs.

"Yeah, freak, mind you manners," Pat laughed, as he raised his straw to his mouth and shot another spit ball at Aaron, this time catching him on the forehead.

For a shocked moment, Katelyn stayed frozen, staring at what was unfolding. Then she lurched into action.

"Stop it!" She demanded, shrill enough for the professor to pause for a second in his lecture, the room coming to a brief pause with all eyes on them. But he let it slide and the lesson continued, leaving Katelyn and Aaron alone in the back.

Brandon put an arm on the table in front of Katelyn and leaned over so he could whisper to her, "C'mon, Katy, what're you doin' over here?" He loomed over her, huge, blocking her view of the rest of the classroom. "Go back to your friends and quit making a fuss."

She clutched her hands to her chest, leaning back to get away from him, scrambling to find something to say. Next to them, Pat wadded up another spit ball and launched it at Aaron, who just stooped lower, retreating back as far as he could into his clothes. Chuckling under his breath, Pat reached across and knocked over the coffee cup that Aaron had brought to class, spilling it all over his meticulous notes.

"Stop it," she begged, quieter. She couldn't believe this was happening. She didn't know what to do. She wanted to cry.

"Aww," Brandon crooned, "Does Katy want us to leave the kitty cat alone?" She turned beet red, felt her throat close up. She needed to scream but she didn't know if it was in rage or despair. "You don't really _like_ this little creep, do you?" Katelyn choked on her tongue, swallowing back a sob.

Aaron was trying to save his notebook, get it off the table and out of the puddle, but Pat kept tearing it out of his hands and rubbing it into the stain, the pages ripping and falling apart, ink swirling into the coffee. Still, Aaron never said a word, and no one did anything at all to stop it, even though they must see it happening. They had to.

"You need to make better choices, Katy," Brandon whispered in her ear, right on top of her, his arm around her.

Finally, Pat threw the ruined notebook in Aaron's face, letting the soggy mess fall into his lap. Pat sat back with a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

Brandon gave her a condescending little pat on the shoulder, "Think on it, okay?" Then he and Pat turned around and faced forwards again, sliding their stools back to their proper table and tuning back into the lesson like nothing had happened.

Their table was in disarray. Pens and pencils and wet strips of paper lay strewn everywhere in pools of coffee. Aaron was panting, hard, his jaw clenched tight, fighting back a scream. Katelyn was, too. His hands gripped the table edge, white knuckled. When she looked, she saw the ends of his fingers tipped in claws back to the second knuckle, wicked sickles that stood out two inches, cutting grooves into the wood.

A choked sob broke through Katelyn's shock, breaking the silence. Tears welled up in her eyes. Aaron snapped around and glared at her, saw her looking at him, and in one abrupt motion grabbed his bag and fled the classroom.

No one tried to stop him. The professor didn't even stop lecturing. 

When the class ended, Katelyn left in a daze.

  
\---

  
Aaron didn't come back to class the entirety of next week.

Katelyn, cowed and broken, slipped back into her seat with Amy, Penny, and Rochele on Tuesday. They acted like nothing happened, except for the ugly triumph in Penny's eyes.

She didn't see Aaron again until Sunday afternoon, as she made her way through the abandoned shelves on the top floor of the library. In the dusty sunbeam of an old window at the end of a forgotten back row she stumbled on him by pure coincidence.

He'd fallen asleep while reading, stretched out on the floor, cheek pillowed on the thick refernece book, grey hood aschew to reveal his bleach blond hair. She smiled shyly at having caught him so unawares, napping in the sunlight like that. 

It was the least guarded she'd ever seen him. Instead of crouched down in a ball he was layed out in a completely boneless heap. His face and chest were down but his spine twisted around impossibly to angle his hips and legs upwards. To Katelyn, it looked horribly uncomfortable, but to Aaron it was apparently downright cozy.

He was almost... cute.

Katelyn giggled a little, to herself, feeling lighter than she had all week, and carefully tiptoed backwards to leave and not disturb him.

Just her luck, she stepped on a creaky floorboard that let out the longest, loudest groan she had ever heard. Enough to make her flinch. Enough to rouse Aaron from the floor, slowly waking and stretching his arms and legs out until they shook, yawning.

All at once, he became aware of the other presence in the row, and all his sleepy ease disappeared in an instant. He snapped around to get his feet under him, curling up tightly into a ball with his limbs under him. He turned and caught sight of Katelyn, still on her toes, watching him sleep.

"The fuck are you doing here, creep!" he snarled, long teeth bared. His eyes caught the light and flashed at her like caution signs. "You gonna get my fucking library books torn up, too?"

Guilt hit Katelyn in the stomach like a bat. She had to apologize. "I never meant for that to happen," she sputtered, "I'm so, so sor-"

"Take your sorry and shove it up your ass! Just leave me alone!"

No. No. She had to make this right somehow. This was her fault she needed to make this better. He couldn't be mad at her. Half the team was already watching her over their shoulders, whispering behind her back, she couldn't have another person mad at her.

"I didn't want-" she stammered, taking a step back. "I just- Please don't be mad- I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm-"

"Fuck your apologies," he cried, "Your apologies don't mean shit to me! That was three months of notes! I'm dicked in that class now and it's your fault!"

Katelyn's vision spun. She couldn't breathe. She stumbled backwards and hit a bookcase with a clang, knocking volumes down around her feet.

"And another thing," he yelled, "I'm not your fucking science fair project, so quit fucking looking at me!"

The sob that had been building in her chest since that day finally tore its way free. She slid down the bookcase onto the floor, wrapping her arms around her knees. "Stop it! Stop it!" she cried, "Please stop, I didn't mean to, okay! It's not my fault! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, just _stop yelling at me_!" Tears welled up in her eyes and with the last of her energy she fought to stop them from falling.

Aaron fell silent. After a long minute of fighting off tears, trying to catch her breath in wheezy little gasps, Katelyn lifted her head and saw him still staring at her. They were eye-to-eye now, both curled up on the floor, under attack.

"What can I do," she whimpered, "To make it better? How can I fix it?"

Aaron hissed at her, teeth on display and eyes slitted, "You can leave. Me. Alone."

But that wouldn't release the suffocating feeling in her chest. Katelyn needed to make amends, not just turn a blind eye again. Not like everyone else. 

"No," she whispered. Then louder more forceful, "No. That's not good enough." Aaron pulled back, the rage dropping off his face momentarily in favor of surprise. "Give me something else, something to _do_. What do you want? What do you need? I have to make this right." She began to uncurl, fixing her focus ahead of her.

Aaron tried to spit, "There's nothing you have that I want," but it came out hesitant, confused. Maybe no one had ever fought to pay him back for the wrongs they'd done him, too quick to take the easy way out he offered and turn their backs.

Katelyn crawled a little closer to him. "I can give you my notes," she offered, "And go over them with you for anything I do differently than you." She extended him a hand and a small, watery smile, "And something else, after that. We can figure out what later."

He backed up, but all the fight had left him. Instead, he just looked unsure. "I don't want your shitty notes," he tried.

"That's okay," Katelyn countered, edging closer, "I'll help you with them. They _are_ kinda shitty notes."

Aaron stopped backing away, leaving them in arms reach of each other. He looked at her face, so lost at her insistence of doing right by him. "I don't want your charity, either," he mumbled, but he'd lost, they both knew it.

"It's not charity," Katelyn assured him, "It's restitution." She waved her hand to catch his attention.

"Now, do we have a deal?"

"Yeah, sure. Whatever"

But he shook her hand, and Katelyn rather liked the way it felt. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the hets are allowed a little angst and tenderness, as a treat
> 
> katelyn through this whole chapter is just like 'heart eyes, motherfucker'


	3. Neil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something a little softer and sillier, in Columbia. 
> 
> If you don't know yet, kids, it gets better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After 9,000 words, we finally get to the scenes with the art that inspired it. please check out goopllmw's wonderful pieces here:  
> https://goopllmw-art.tumblr.com/post/614962651050704896/goopllmw-art-these-are-my-two-pieces-for-this

When the back door of the Maserati swung open in the driveway of the Columbia house, Aaron poured out onto the asphalt like liquid, giggling. Nicky and Kevin came stumbling after him, unsteady but managing to keep their feet. Aaron meanwhile, succeeded scooting over until he reached the dirt, at which point he began rolling and writhing in it on his back like a thing posessed.

Watching from the front seat, gleefully sober, Neil broke down in giggles.

Next to him in the driver's seat, Andrew, ruefully sober, hit his head against the steering wheel and blared the horn. It made the three crossfaded idiots in the yard jump, falling all over themselves. Aaron, in his fright, took off like an ungaily rocket, crashing into the overgrown hedge on the edge of the property.

Neil devolved from giggles to pealing cackles, gasping for air, tears welling up in his eyes. He couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed so hard.

"Shut up," Andrew mumbled into the wheel.

"Oh, come on, Andrew," Neil chuckled, "You gave him the go-ahead. Now you have to deal with the fallout." He turned away from the window and leaned across the console, hooking two fingers around Andrew's jaw and turning his head to face him. "They're gonna crash in ten minutes, then it's just you and me..." he trailed off. He dropped a teasing, featherlite kiss on Andrew's cheek, then his temple, then his nose. Andrew leaned up towards him, eyes fluttering closed. Before Neil could drop a kiss on Andrew's mouth and distract the both of them for a good long while though, he pulled back and swung open the door, hopping out of the car. "Let's get the children to bed then," he tittered, as obnoxiously upbeat as possible, spinning his key ring on his finger.

Behind him, Andrew cursed and slammed his head against the horn one last time before following Neil out of the car.

"Kevin!" he called. "Nicky! Inside! Now!"

The two had slumped together like an a-frame, more asleep than awake and only still standing by the other's force. At Neil's voice they wobbled apart and stumbled towards him like zombies.

Neil opened the front door and held it for them, knowing that any obstacle at all was too great an obstacle for them like this. He gave Kevin a well-timed little shove that toppled him over onto the couch as he passed through the living room, then escorted Nicky to his bedroom to ensure that he collapsed face down on the bed this time, rather than right next to it.

Stupid ridiculous idiots. They were absolute _babies_ when fucked up.

By the time he got back to the living room with a blanket for him, Kevin was already snoring like a troll, drooling on a throw pillow.

A thump from the entryway let him know that Andrew had rescued Aaron from the bush and brought him inside. He appeared briefly on his way to the kitchen, dragging a squirming Aaron, covered in dirt and leaves, by the collar of his new shirt.

Neil sauntered after them, leaning on the casing and watching as Andrew wrangled his floppy brother to pick the leaves out of his hair and drop them in the sink. Aaron was having none of it, twisting around, batting at his brothers hands, occasionally trying to make a run for it. By the time Andrew finished with the leaves and moved on to cleaning the dirt off Aaron's face with a damp hand towel, Andrew was sitting on him to keep him in place.

Aaron had lost the capacity for human speech a couple hours ago, devolving into squeaks and mrrps and chirps, at about the same time as he started trying to chase the laser lights on the dancefloor at Eden's. He kept bonking Andrew upside the head. Not hard enough to hurt, but definitely enough to knock him off course and make his cleaning mission much harder. Neil could see his irritation levels rising with the bunching up of his shoulders.

As soon as Andrew released him Aaron was off like a shot to wreak havoc on some other part of the house, leaving Andrew dirty, rumpled, and annoyed.

Neil pushed off the casing and moseyed on up to his grumpy boyfriend. "You _sure_ you don't want to try?" he crooned, taking one of the dime bags out of his pocket and shaking it in Andrew's face. "There's still plenty left."

Andrew snatched the bag out of Neil's hand and slammed the remains into the trashcan. "Get that shit out of my house," he snapped. "Never again."

Since they'd sworn off party drugs, weed and booze were about the only recreational mindfucks left, but they didn't buy weed nearly as often. The twins both had an.. intolerance? An allergy? They weren't sure, but it didn't get them high, just made them sick. Nevertheless, that night Nicky had wanted to get high, and had even convinced Kevin to go in with him on the caveat that they get edibles instead of smoking. They messaged Roland asking to have some gummies waiting for them at the bar, then when they'd shown up Roland had slip another little bag their way, half-full of dried green plants. "For the twins," he'd said.

Catnip.

Roland had meant it as a joke, but neither of the twins had ever actually tried it to find out. It tracked that maybe if they reacted like cats to marijuana, maybe they also reacted like cats to 'nip.

Andrew had declined, as the DD, taking two shots and nursing them all night. Aaron, who'd been deprived of milder drugs and tumbled right down into the hard shit, stuck his nose right into the baggie. 

Twenty minutes later he'd been doing kick-flips off the fucking walls, rolling on tables, raving his little raver heart out.

Kevin and Nicky drank shots like water once they were stoned and joined Aaron on the dancefloor. Andrew had never been run so ragged trying to keep tabs on everyone and make sure no one passed out or got punched. Within an hour they were wasted, within two they were _plastered_. Before the third hour Andrew had dragged them and of the club and stuffed them in the car, exhausted.

Neil had been having the time of his life watching Aaron try to attack the disco ball and fight his own reflection.

Back home, standing together in the kitchen, Andrew reached out for Neil and took him in hand, running over the lines of his chest and arms, straightening his clothes, wiping away his wrinkles. It was a nervous tick of his, one he only let out in full with Neil, his compulsive need to groom his people. Everyone else had accepted that sometimes Andrew would choose their clothes for them or abruptly come up and fix their hair, but none of them knew why.

It wasn't that Andrew was a neat-freak, or even particularly tidy, but there was a degree of order he liked out of his people. 

Neil had long since deferred all his clothes choices and hair maintentence to Andrew, who would leave clothes out for him every night and come over periodically throughout the day to fix things that were out of place. Andrew had also bought him no less than twenty hair care products, including satin pillowcases, most of which Neil had no idea how to use, and devoted hours of his time weekly to caring for Neil's curls. 

He didn't mind. He liked that it made Andrew happy, made him feel useful and in control. Besides, Andrew's style was utterly unlike anything Neil's father had ever worn or his mother had ever made him wear. When Andrew made him up he looked completely unlike any other version of himself that had existed before. He could look at himself in the mirror, with his braided out curls and provocative shirts.

And he could like what he saw. 

He also liked not having to make certain decisions himself, never having felt much of an inclination for fashion anyways. Farthest down, though, he just liked having Andrew take care of him. Maybe he was becoming a little bit pampered, but he figured he'd gone through enough in his life to have earned it.

Andrew stepped into Neil's space until they were chest to chest, resting his hands on him carefully so as to not ruffle up his shirt, and leaned in to rub his cheek against Neil's neck, the joint of his shoulder, his collarbone. Scent marking him. He could feel Andrew's fangs pressing against his skin through his lips, skimming over his jugular. It made him shivver, the coiled, deadly power so close to his lifesblood but so certain it would never, ever hurt him.

Andrew released a hot, content sigh against him, then pushed himself back. "Get ready for bed," he told Neil, "I'll be up soon." Then he backed away and left the kitchen.

Neil padded upstairs to get cleaned up and changed, rubbing a hand over his neck where Andrew had been.

It usually took him an hour or more to come to bed after arriving in Columbia. Each week Andrew had to make his rounds. Inspect the windows and doors and vents. Make sure everything was working and that no one had broken in. 

It was less a paranoid habit than a territorial one. Andrew had a much keener sense of smell than a human, and the house was his domain. He needed to run his hands over it to reclaim it after being gone. He would be up when he finished.

In the meantime, Neil washed off the grime and smell of Eden's in the shower, lingering under the hot water. He didn't need to worry about waking the house because everyone in it slept like the dead after raving. He brushed his teeth and washed his face, applying his litany of moisturizers, scar creams, and toners that Allison had gotten him. He would likely only keep using a few of them long-term, but he liked how they kept his scars from pulling or aching. It was just a bitch to put on half his body, made him feel like he'd bathed in butter until he had it rubbed in.

Returning to the bedroom in his towel, he slipped into his sleep clothes: boxer-briefs and one of Andrew's old t-shirts that hung down to his thighs. He never packed clothes for weekends in Columbia. Andrew kept about half his wardrobe there at any given time, swapping it around per need with his clothes at the dorms. Neil much preferred to laze around in his boyfriend's clothes than bring his own. He could smell Andrew on them. He had no _idea_ what Andrew thought of it, but he never stopped him.

A crash from downstairs startled him out of his thoughts, and he raced out to check on it. What he found in the livingroom brought him screeching to a halt.

Aaron, poor Aaron, high as a kite, had managed to procure an orange yarn ball from somewhere and was chasing it around the room ungaily on all fours while it rapidly unraveled, while Andrew was chasing HIM, no doubt trying to wrestle his brother into submission long enough to drag him to his room and barricade him in for the night.

It was a wonderful game of cat and... cat. They knocked into walls, tables, chairs, overturning everything in their whirlwind, the yarn spinning an increasingly-intricate spiderweb in the middle of the room. Kevin slept soundly through it all.

By the time Aaron started to slow down Andrew was panting like he'd just gotten off the court, and Neil was about to explode from the effort of keeping his laughter silent. He was in convulsions on the steps.

With a chirrup, Aaron flopped down in the middle of the yarn and began rolling around, wiggling and scratching his back on the carpet, getting hopelessly entangled in the strings. Andrew flopped down on the floor with a wheeze, gasping to catch his breath. 

At that point, Neil broke, screaming his mirth for the whole neighborhood to hear. Andrew swivveled his head around to glare at Neil. 

"You think," he panted, "That this," pant, "is funny?"

"Yes," Neil giggled, his stomach aching, "I really _really_ do."

Too tired to form a comeback, Andrew just breathed, "Fuck you."

"Mmm," Neil hummed, "As soon as you put baby to bed, Mama Cat."

Andrew made a strained wheezing noise.

"Y'know," Neil pondered in a fake-sincere voice, "I think you might need to work on your cardio."

"I take it back," Andrew growled, still on the floor, "Go fuck _yourself_. Alone."

At that moment, Aaron interrupted, saying his first words in hours, "What the fuck!"

He thrashed around in the string net of his own making, yelling. "What the fuck happened! What the fuck is going on!" Seemingly unconcerned for the answer.

Eventually he dragged himself to sitting, tearing the yarn off his ears and shoulders, spitting it out of his mouth. He threw it on the ground in disgust. Slumping back, he took in the state of the room in disrepair, covered in string, Kevin comatose on the couch, Neil curled up into a shaking ball of laughter, and his brother, also covered in string, panting up a lung on the ground across from him.

"I'm never taking that shit again," he declared. 

Andrew heaved himself up to his feet and headed for the stairs. "Yeah, no shit," he grumbled, "Now go to sleep." Then he grabbed Neil by the back of the shirt collar and dragged him up to their room.

After throwing Neil in with a muttered, "Not one word," he headed for the bathroom to get cleaned up for the night.

Neil flopped spread eagle on the bed, still shaking with after-tremors of laughter, wondering how his life had turned out so wonderfully ridiculous, with his cat boyfriend and his family and stupid, harmless chaos.

Andrew didn't take long to shower, brush his teeth, and primp. He came into the room with the towel slung over his shoulders, naked save his briefs. He dropped the towel on the floor and collapsed right on top of Neil with a grunt, automatically nuzzling his face into Neil's neck.

Neil wrapped his arms around him, running his hands up and down Andrew's spine, feeling the velvet of the down that covered his body. He threw the blanket over them haphazardly and tucked his chin over Andrew's head. 

Andrew was already drifting off, his breaths deepening into deep, rumbling purrs that settled into Neil's bones as he too slipped into oblivion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Controversial take, but Neil and Andrew are the parents
> 
> also this is definitely a bad way to take recreational drugs without knowing the potential side effects. And also a bad way to handle someone going through a weird trip for the first time, but that's why we love fiction
> 
> Well here we are, finished. This was a huge undertaking for me and something I'm immensly proud of. I'm so glad to have done this Reverse Big Bang. But at the same time, I was an absolute mess and surely a nightmare for the poor mods

**Author's Note:**

> Dreher High School is a 100% real high school in columbia, south carolina that i googled because i was lazy and i hope i have not portrayed them in too negative a light. my apologies


End file.
